


Fear and Loathing

by marvelling



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:18:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelling/pseuds/marvelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve struggles to accept who he is.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this work comes from Marina and the Diamonds - Fear and Loathing but it was almost called Guilty As Charged after the Tegan and Sara song. (they're both amazing songs, you should check them out)  
> Enjoy!

The water scalded his skin as it cascaded down his back. He winced but suffered through it. He deserved the pain. His knuckles were strained white as he balled his hands into fits, before eventually sinking to his knees, the searing heat making it difficult to breathe. He barely heard the heavy thuds on the door and a man’s voice desperately pleading with him to come out, to talk to him, to know that it was okay.

 

“Please Steve. Please, come on.” _THUD. THUD THUD._ “Steve, please!”

 

Steve wouldn’t go to him. He couldn’t. It had taken him years to block out the disturbing thoughts. It was wrong. He was sick. He was disgusting. Unnatural. Perverted. Immoral. Unholy. Abnormal. Queer.

 

That’s what people used to say about people like him.

 

It’s what some people still said about people like him.

 

So he ignored it. He denied it. He refused to give in to his twisted desires and distanced himself from any kind of love.

 

He couldn’t love a woman and he _wouldn’t_ love a man.

 

Before Steve thought it was just Bucky. Because they lived together and were so close, but Bucky made it clear that he thought of Steve as a brother so Steve never gave anything away, never showed any sign that he wanted more.

 

And then Bucky died. Steve felt like a part of him had been torn away. There was a gaping hole in his chest and he wished will all his heart that he had told Bucky. He wished he had been brave enough to accept himself and let Bucky know how he felt.

 

When Steve crashed, he prayed he’d be reunited with Bucky and that he’d finally get to tell him. But he didn’t. He woke up seventy years later, now more alone than ever.

 

But then _he_ appeared. He was so much like his father, but even more cocky and charming, if that were possible. He had the most beautiful eyes Steve had ever seen, so dark and enthralling. He spoke at a hundred miles an hour with a voice that stirred something deep within Steve.

 

Steve hated it. He hated his snarky comments and quick wit. He hated his amazing smile and the way it always reached his eyes. He hated the way he clutched his stomach when he laughed and he hated the way he said Steve’s name.

 

He hated him.

 

He hated Tony Stark.

 

***

 

The man thudded his head against the door in one last feeble attempt to entice Steve to come out. He sat with his back against the door, his legs spread in front of him, eyes closed. Tony didn’t understand why Steve had reacted this way. He thought Steve… he wanted Steve to… fuck, was he wrong?

 

No. No way was Tony wrong. He read the signs. He felt the connection…

 

Tony had always just rolled with the punches. He didn’t like labels and he didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. He pitied people who cared what others thought of them and who changed who they were to conform to others’ standards and expectations. He liked to live outside the box, to be larger than life.

 

But it was hard to find someone who shared his mindset. There was always something holding them back, something about themselves that they wanted to ignore and deny. Tony always encouraged people to be themselves, completely. He accepted them the way they were; warts and all, even if they didn’t.

 

He had been with both women and men. To him, love was love. If you were attracted to someone then why care what sex they were? A person is a person. If they were interesting and liked what you liked then why not be with them?

 

When he met Steve he felt compelled to be near him, to learn what made him tick. What did he like? What did he dislike? What were his hobbies? What shampoo did he use? What cologne did he use? How soft was his skin? How gentle were his lips? How did he taste?

 

He’d never felt so drawn to anyone before in his life. He’d never wanted someone so badly.

 

Tony’s thoughts often whirled around his head in a tornado of information and ideas which he struggled to control. He’d often blurt something out without thinking of the ramifications or do something reckless, never caring about the consequences.

 

He can’t remember what he said to Steve to make him instantly dislike him, but he was glad he said it. He loved that he clashed with Steve. He loved the tension between them. He loved watching Steve get all worked up and flustered.

 

He loved the set of his jaw when he got mad. He loved how his brilliant blue eyes darkened when Tony took a dig at him. He loved watching him beat the shit out of a punching bag to blow off steam. He loved him giving orders in his no nonsense, Brooklyn accent.

 

He loved him.

 

He loved Steve Rogers.

 

***

 

The water ran cold now, feeling like tiny needles shooting into his back. The thudding and calling had stopped and Steve was tired. He shut off the water but stayed on his knees for a while, the chilling air seeping into his skin before he stood, wrapping a towel around his waist. He wiped a hand across the steamy mirror and stared blankly at his slightly distorted reflection.

 

He looked the same. He didn’t show any signs that inside he was dying and felt as though his insides were on fire. He didn’t look like he was choking back the urge to scream. He didn’t look like he was too numb to cry, that he felt nothing but overwhelming self-hatred and disgust.

 

He glanced at the razor glistening on the shelf beneath the mirror.

 

What good would it do?

 

It won’t change how you feel.

 

It won’t change who you are.

 

He closed his eyes, fists gripped tightly around the sink as he dry heaved for a moment. The sick feeling churning in his stomach didn’t falter. If anything it intensified, his throat closing and his head spinning. He burst out of the bathroom, even cooler air slapping him in the face.

 

Tony was perched on the end of his bed, head in his hands.

 

The sick feeling disappeared and Steve was able to breathe again.

 

The billionaire’s head whipped up and he lurched to his feet. “H-hey,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I- I thought you… I thought you liked me too…” he ran a hand through his dark hair, his gaze falling to his feet. “I felt I should explain… I- I don’t want you to think I’m…” he shrugged helplessly, unable- for perhaps the first time in his life- to find the right words. “I’m just really sorry, Steve. I promise you I won’t pull that shit again. Please, just… please don’t… I want to be friends… please tell me I haven’t fucked this up.” His voice was pleading. Steve had never heard him sound so vulnerable and wounded.

 

Steve couldn’t move. The pain and numbness was gone. As he stood staring, slack jawed at Tony, so beautiful and exposed, he was suddenly overwhelmed with a longing to hold him. For that moment his brain didn’t remind him of the aversion and revulsion he felt whenever he looked at Tony and his heart stuttered, right now his heart was filled with admiration and pride for the man baring his soul before him.

 

He knew Tony rarely felt embarrassed and Steve hated that he was now responsible for making him feel ashamed of who he was. Steve didn’t want Tony to feel the way he felt about himself. He wanted the billionaire to be free to love who he loved, proud and unashamed.

 

Steve strode towards him and took Tony’s face in his trembling hands. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he told him, his voice hoarse. “It’s me… I- I’m not… I can’t…” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed.

 

“I know you don’t think it’s okay to feel the way you do, Steve.” Tony said softly, leaning his head against Steve’s. “But it is. Sure, there’s people who think otherwise, but Steve…” the billionaire touched his face, gently running his thumb along the soldier’s cheekbone. “Fuck them.” He grinned as Steve opened his eyes to meet his. “I know you’re scared… so am I. And I know we’re gonna have to work at this… But I’ll wait for you, Steve. I’ll love you and eventually you’ll learn to love yourself.”

 

Steve shook his head again. “It’s not that simple…”

 

“We’ll make it that simple.” Tony told him firmly. “Do you trust me?”

 

Steve was surprised to hear himself laugh. “Barely.” He smiled for the first time in weeks.

 

Maybe it was that simple.

 

“We’ll work on that,” the billionaire grinned, his eyes bright.

 

A warmth spread through Steve as Tony smiled, the cold self-hatred thawing bit by bit as they stood in silence, pressed against each other.

 

He loved him.

 

He loved Tony Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!  
> I appreciate any comments or constructive criticism, especially on characterisation, it's what I struggle with most.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


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